A Study
by BlueeyedIrishSherlockian
Summary: The Title is to be noted to change, this story isn't completed. Sherlock finds himself captivated by a strange young girl. Now his and John's world is thrown back into even more danger as they try to help her. Johnlock, Mormor, Lecroft (Mycroft x Lestrade)


Freak

It was the final punch to my jaw that made me decide it was time to leave. It wasn't hard to slip out of their grasps without leaving a trace behind besides a few dead bodies. I knew I had exactly five hours before he found out, by then I would be gone. I ran as fast as I could. My body screamed at me to stop, to stop and rest, but I ignored my body just like I did everything else. I pushed my body until it threatened to collapse from exhaustion, black dots dancing before my eyes. I leaned into the side of a wall, daring to rest for a few precious seconds. I knew the value of a millisecond and I knew I couldn't risk it. I would have to risk collapsing and being caught. I ran another two blocks before I found myself in a thong of people. Good, those stupid goonies wouldn't be able to find me. Not yet. I stood beside someone that smelt of female deodorant, they didn't notice me. I had talent of hiding in the middle of a crown. Mostly everyone's attention was focused on two men that stood in the circle the crowd created. I turned my attention to them. One was standing behind the knelt man, this man was a soldier, I could tell from his posture. He had graying blonde hair and held himself proud behind the man kneeling. The kneeling man had black curls that were pushed from his face. He was studying something with a pocket magnified glass. With some shock I realized that, that something was a _dead body. _I felt a chill run through me until I saw the black haired man stand up. One of the men I was standing behind walked forward; he looked to be in charge.

"Do you have anything for us?" he asked, running a hand over his salt and peppered hair. He seemed nervous as he bounced on his left foot.

"I have plenty of things, Detective Inspector," the raven haired man replied, "All that I will need to take into consideration and give to you tomorrow."

It seemed that the Detective Inspector was going to speak until the feminized deodorant smelling man stepped up. _"Oh what? The great Sherlock Holmes _doesn't have anything for us?" he sneered, his voice making me cringe, _"This is a first."_

I don't know why I did it, what made me act. I was supposed to be hiding, but I couldn't stop myself. "He obviously does have something, _ignorant mind," _I hissed, stepping out from the crowd. Their eyes followed me as I walked towards the body. "This man was obviously killed with poison. It was made to look like he was mugged and killed. Note the bruises are made _after_ death. There is alcohol stained on the collar of his shirt and he reeks of it, but if your attention-_right here, you fool. Is it that hard?-_you can tell that there are two pin pokes. Not much bigger than a needle." The deduction was forced out and in a rush. Yet I saw the stunned looks, heard the silence.

The deodorant man's eyes bored into me, a sneer on his lips. He took a step towards me, uttering the word, _"Freak!" _before the soldier balled up his fist and socked the man in the jaw. I took off right after that, weaving through the crowd. I wasn't sure where I was running to, but I just wanted to run from them.

I ran until I did collapse. I was far from the scene, on a hill near the Thames River. I knew my route; I knew that I could be safe from nearly anyone chasing me for about three minutes if I was lucky. I curled up on the base of a tree, trying to get myself to calm down, to not faint. Fainting would be bad; fainting would put them at risk. I couldn't care of my safety, but they were damned if I was gone. I cursed myself in every language I knew for my little act. I was only to observe, watch. I wasn't supposed to act; acting got you caught, got you in trouble. This could've gotten me killed, if not _them. _I didn't want to think of the possibilities. I have no idea how long I staid under that tree, but I knew it was more than my limit, it was enough time for two figures to be seen walking up on the hill. I cursed, I was risking too much today. I tried to stand, but my body wouldn't agree with me. I could only watch. One was taller than the other; his coat was behind him as they stalked up the hill. Fear set in me, at least what I thought was fear. I prepared myself for anything. Yet I wasn't prepared for this… The taller man knelt down beside me with the shorter beside him. I recognize them from the crime scene, the blonde and black haired man.

The blonde soldier had a gentle smile as he rested a gentle hand on my shoulder, the black haired detective studying me with kind as he could manage eyes. It was the soldier who spoke. "I'm Dr. John H. Watson," he said with another smile, nodding to Sherlock, "And this is Sherlock Holmes."


End file.
